Unlikely Meetings
by Kylip
Summary: Crossover: Sky/X-Men ; Warning : Possible slash: A first meeting between a Wolverine and a Hothead.
1. Chapter 1

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The bar was dim, full of obnoxious men who were drunk or getting there, and it smelled like a combination smoke and sour breath. It was also the only bar in the only town in fifty miles. So while the dive was not exactly the place Warren wanted to be at the moment, it got him out of the clear cold weather…a chance to smoke without him shivering so much that the cigarette fell out of his mouth…and half way decent alcohol.

His clothes…black jeans, black shirt and dark brown ankle length duster kept him warm enough most of the time…but they were getting on in years. If he got any money sometime soon he'd have to buy some new rags. The patched duffel bag he'd been carrying around for years was slung across the back of his barstool. Reaching a hand up he fingered the ends of his hair, the red streaked strands reaching just below his collar bone. He didn't need a hair cut, after all it wasn't like he was trying to impress anybody.

As Warren leaned his elbow on the top of the bar again…one hand cradling his shot glass that was still half full, the other one holding his almost gone cigarette and thanking whatever god there was that at least the music playing in the background wasn't some yodeling country singer…the rumble of a motorcycle sounded in the dive's parking lot. Warren's chapped lips twitched in a almost there smile, the purring sound of the engine bringing fond memories of him and Baron working in the garage when he had been fourteen. Dispelling the memories with a shake of his head he watched the entrance from the corner of his dark eyes. The engine had sounded like something from a Harley or maybe a Vulcan…no…maybe a hybrid? They were rare but you saw one every once in a while.

The heavy door of the bar swung open easily showing the bar patrons their newest comrade. Worn jeans clung to long muscled legs, a flannel red shirt stretched across wide shoulders and a compact chest…the black leather jacket had snow dusted across the shoulders. Brown hair that stood up and curled at the ends flared down to somewhat bushy sideburns. Thin lips clenched a stub of a cigar and high cheekbones were cherry red from being buffeted by freezing temperatures. Dark black eyes surveyed the bar suspiciously, a feral light glinting in their depths. Looking to be somewhere in his thirties the man carried no helmet or gloves and yet his clothes carried melting specks of snow.

After giving the man a once over, Warren turned his attention back to his drink and nicotine. He watched from the corner of his eyes as the man grabbed a stool five down from his and ordered a beer. Noticing he was being observed, the man twisted till he faced Warren.

A voice roughened by smoke, tobacco and something else growled at him "You got a problem, bud?"

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A preview of a plot I've been thinking about for a while. Tell me what you guys think. Should I continue? By the way, for those of you who don't get the crossover yet it's Sky High/X-Men.


	2. Chapter 2

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"You got a problem, bud?" the man asked Warren. Taking a drag off his cig, Warren turned and looked him up and down for a moment, an amused smirk twitching at the edge of his mouth. Looking at the hicks in the corner tables eyeing the new guy, Warren's eyes flicked back to him and he shook his head. He didn't want trouble with the newcomer but it looked like the more drunken humans might. Mentally shrugging, Warren finished of his shot and signaled the barkeep for another. It wasn't his problem.

The man stared at his profile for a second before snorting and going back to his beer. The man's shoulders stayed tense though. It seemed he'd noticed the hostile looks from the corner as well. A few minutes passed like that…till five men more inebriated then the rest stood and made their way over to the bar. The barkeep tensed for a moment then lowered a hand under the bar and kept it there.

One man, brawnier than the others slurred out "You lost little man?" and leered threateningly at the smaller man.

The newcomer's hand tightened on his beer then relaxed. Turning and glaring at the brute he rumbled out "No, but you are Goldilocks".

The big man flushed angrily at the dig at his bleached hair. The bleached thing looked to be popular with this group. Tuning out the pissing match, Warren took a sip of his shot. Then grimaced and decided he'd ask for scotch next time. Suddenly an unwelcome hand caressed the back of his neck. The hand was attached to a greasy bleach blond that was smiling and looking like he was thinking bad thoughts. "Hey pretty boy, you up for some action after we deal with tough guy?" Blondie slurred. Looked like he had split off from the group that was currently in a fist fight with the stranger…and four on one was losing.

Shrugging off the bastard's hand Warren stood up to leave. Blondie forced him back down with a harsh push "Where the fuck you going boy? You're staying right here for some fun." he said as his stinking face pushed closer to Warren's own. And then quite suddenly he found his face kissing the bar counter. The thug tried to push himself up but stilled when he felt cold steel pressed against the base of his skull. A cold click warned him to keep his ass even stiller.

Warren huffed in annoyance. While he'd been dealing with the pervert it seemed the fist fight had been finished. Four unconscious bodies lay on the floor and the stranger was finishing his beer and staring with interest at the gun Warren was pressing against Blondie. Various bruises and cuts fading from sight as if the fight had never happened. The barkeep looked between the three parties and sighed. "You better leave, gentlemen. Now." he murmured.

The strangers brow furrowed and a growl forced its way out of a pinched mouth. Warren ground his teeth together, then sighed. Tossing back the vodka left in his glass he swung his bag up onto his shoulder. Turning to leave he heard the thug take a breath of relief. Grinning Warren clicked the safety back on his gun and slammed the handle into Blondie's skull. Tucking the gun back in his coat, he paid for his drinks and went to leave.

As he opened the doors to leave, a rat faced man yelled out from the still conscious group at the tables "That's right, get out of here you fucking mutants. We don't want your kind here." Warren's back tensed as he paused for a moment, fighting the urge to put a bullet between the man's eyes. Rolling his shoulders Warren left, pulling his coat tighter against the biting wind. Dark feral eyes staring at his back in surprised speculation.

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What do you guys think?


	3. Chapter 3

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Logan stared at the picture on the computer screen, again wishing the Professor would let him smoke in his office. It'd been years since he'd seen the young man in the photo. Nearly twenty, in fact. By now the man had to be in his late thirties. Knowing that Chuck would tell him and the others the importance of the man only when he was good and ready, Logan tuned back into the conversation.

The Professor was seated behind his desk staring at the photo on the table beside. Cyclops and Jean were seated on the coach together, Ororo was leaning on the Professor's desk and Beast was seated in the leather chair opposite the desk.

Tiring of the silence, Logan spoke breaking the Professor from his thoughts. "What was so important, Chuck? I was busy, you know." Starting slightly, Charles Xavier turned his attention to them.

"My apologies from pulling you all from your activities," he said "but it was quite urgent you all know the situation. Especially you, Logan." Ignoring the questioning look from the mutant, he continued. "As you know, William Striker set up many facilities across the country in which to experiment upon mutants. "Everyone besides Chuck tensed at the mention of the scientist.

"Over time we have destroyed most of these facilities and freed the mutants within. Dr. MkCoy and I have been conducting interviews with most of the mutants we have rescued from the facilities. Most of them have nothing in common with each other aside from possessing the x gene and their imprisonment. However, they all talked about a mutant that had escaped from one of Strikers maximum security facilities at least five times by what we can understand." Pausing for a moment, the Professor sipped on a glass of water.

"Do we know any other information?" Ororo asked from her place at the desk. At the question Beast cleared his throat.

"His name was Warren Peace. He was first taken by Strike at age 14 and was moved from facility to facility because of "extreme aggression". He apparently had multiple mutations and was one of Striker's top projects. His mutations included empathy, pyrokinesis and a healing factor almost as advanced as Logan's. I believe that he may also have some sort mutation allowing him into computer systems and electric grids from many miles away, though this is just a hunch. Twenty years ago he escaped from one of Striker facilities and disappeared into Canada. That is the last known photo of Peace, retrieved from one of the facilities computer databases. We " and here he indicated the Prosfessor "believe the he is still alive and has the present location of William Striker downloaded somewhere inside his neural network."

"As you can see," Chuck continued "it is imperative that we find him before Striker does."

Logan grinned..."When do we leave?"


	4. Chapter 4

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Warren moved through the crowded city streets quickly. Five star restaurants and opera houses glittered in their skyscraper casings. Limousines cruised the streets and people in expansive clothes stepped out every so often. Once in a while their eyes would land on him and stare for a moment before sliding off. Warren grinned and reminded himself to thank Grandmother for the obscurer device she'd given him last week. The job wouldn't have been done so quickly without it. And here he would have stuck out like a sore thumb . He'd ditched the old rags years ago but had kept the patched duffel bag. A black ankle length coat with a baggy hood hid his waist length braid of hair as well as the holsters carrying his Jerichos. Plain black clothes and skintight gloves made him a shadow beneath the obscurer. Slipping down a alley between skyscrapers he found the door hidden behind some rubbish. Keying in the appropriate code Warren took one last glance around to make sure he hadn't been followed then disappeared into the dark doorway.

***

As Warren went down the tunnel he drew up the map in his mind of the network beneath the city. Most of the Shanty Cities had originally been built along the abandoned railway lines going down three levels. Over time as more and more homeless drifted under the Upper City, the Under Cities started to expand down and around but never up. About ten years ago an out of work electrician had wandered down and apparently rewired the rail systems to divert electricity to the Shanty Cities. And with the light came gardens and food they didn't have to steal from a garbage can. Finally reaching the end of the tunnel Warren pushed the roughshod door inward. Noise blasted him and the smell of roasting pork and beef reached his nose as he closed and locked the inner door. Making his way past the vendors stalls he ignored the cries of their owners.

"Amulets! Amulets! Get your amulet blessed by the Ground God himself! Only five bird legs apiece!!"

"Unworn cloth from the Upper World! Stolen from only the best boutiques! Beautiful silks, linens and wool!"

"Quail's egg and fresh squid! Fresh fish and beef from Upper Chinatown! Ten coins for a full meal!"

"Fresh bread with real flour! Fresh from the oven! Three glass beads a loaf!"

Deeper Warren went till he reached the actual shanties of the City. Some had been cobbled together to form larger shanties almost the size of an actual home in the Upper World. Going to the largest one that had been built up the side of the railway wall, he knocked. As he waited he watched the inhabitants of the City go by. Some were regular humans, others were mutants that could blend in extremely well. Others even Warren couldn't tell their species. After all, strange things lived in the dark. The door opened and Warren stepped inside. Turning he greeted one of the mutants who could not blend in due to the short striped fur that covered his entire body.

"Hello, tiger." Warren ignored the rumbling growl he got for the quip and continued "Is Grandmother in?"

A clawed finger pointed to the den. Walking beside Warren as they went, the furred mutant growled softly

"Don't piss her off tonight. Last time you did that we were all on tenderhooks for a week." Warren snorted and went to make a sharp reply, but Theo grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

"I'm serious this time bonehead, Thomas went missing two days ago. She does not need your shit right now." Warren stilled at the news. When someone went "missing" down here, it was usually synonym for dead or taken. Lowering his voice so it wouldn't reach the den "Do we know who?"

Theo shook his head then paused. "Talk to her. Come see me afterwards and I'll tell what I know. She's missed you."

Warren huffed, then relaxed "Alright"

***

Grandmother wasn't an old woman as her title might suggest, though she was older than many of her charges. Warren being the only one who came within a decade or two of her actual age. Granmother was special in many ways. She was a psychic. She was one of the orginal founders of the Shanty Cities and thus part of the Elder Council. But most of all she was a loving, bright presence to all those around her. She'd been beautiful once, you could see hints of it if you looked closely at the delicate grace of her fingers, the curl in her smile, the soft curls in her faded red hair. She had been what Warren called a glory, but now it was a worn, faded glory.

The den was really just that. A firplace connected to a grate in the Upper World. Patched pillows and throws lay everywhere and Grandmother occupied the only chair while mutants of every shape and form lay sprawled like kittens around her. Picking his way through the comfortable mess Warren kneeled down next to the chair placing a hand on her own delicate, wrinkled one. Clear, tired blue eyes shifted their gaze to him. A soft hand cupped his cheek as she smiled at him "I missd you, my little Pyro." she murmured softly.

Warren smiled happily "I missed you too, Granny."

They murmured quietly together in the warm light of the fire for a few moments before Grandomother straightened slightly and smiled sadly at Warren. "You should have kept moving, little Pyro, they're looking for you."

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A little different then usual, I know. But at least it's a little longer than the last chapter. By the way, Warren's Jerichos are semi-automatic pistols. If you want to see a picture of them just look up Baby Eagle/Jericho 941 on Wikipedia.


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